


The Coldest Blue

by jamesraoulsilva, orphan_account



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: AU, M/M, Pre-Skyfall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-14 00:04:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jamesraoulsilva/pseuds/jamesraoulsilva, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is 2 months after Tiago Rodriguez (now operating under a new name Raoul Silva) leaves the hospital after recovering from his injuries sustained in Chinese custody which he escaped by taking cyanide and almost dying. But he needs a new identity and soon learns he can be an informant for intelligence organizations, including MI6; under the condition that he will only meet with their new double-oh agent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night 1

**Prologue**

“Pain is the great equaliser, the measure by which men and women come to grips with their inner strength. It can be both good and bad. Pain is designed as a warning that the body is being abused in some way. Pain from disease or injury can be sobering; something that one either becomes used to or not It can be long-lasting, often a harbinger of the inevitable ending of life. Occasionally, something good comes out of pain - a newborn child - but protection from the agony that can be inflicted on the human body must be counted as one of the greatest advances in medical knowledge. Torture is man’s cruellest invention. Having pain inflicted upon the body by other human beings in a methodical, deliberate fashion can do just as much damage to the mind as it can to the flesh. Why else would the grand interrogators of the Spanish Inquisition torture their subjects to gain confessions? It didn’t matter if those admissions were false. Even brainwashing is a form of torture. It can cause dedicated men to switch allegiances, give up their country’s secrets and even betray their own people. The tortured will do or say anything to relieve the onslaught of hell that is systematically delivered by the tormentors. The torturing of prisoners is banned in all civilised countries because it is inhumane and barbaric.”

**_Raymond Benson_ **

**Night 1**

_“But pain… pain is in the mind”  
 **Inception**_

 

 

It is a cold December evening in Shanghai; the leaves blown off the trees by a ferocious wind, its wailing scattering across the glinting city like echo through a cave. It wakes you up in the middle of the night for the first few weeks here; it is atrociously cold, even without the snow, the wind from the ocean getting through the warmest of clothes, chilling your bones.

 

He feels his phone vibrating in his pocket right after coming back to the hotel; it is a nuisance, but it needs to be done, otherwise Tanner will be moaning for days that he will tell M.

 

He takes the phone out of his pocket; he guessed right, it’s the informant he’s supposed to meet. On the screen, the number shows up as “UNKNOWN” but James already knows.

 

_“Zhabei district, 16. Come alone, take the folder.”_

Most informants are quite squeaky and shy; this one is probably working for different governments simultaneously, judging by the forward manner.

 

_“Take the public train”_

And a control freak as well; James smiles through gritted teeth, rolling his eyes. What a wonderful evening it’s going to be.

 

Ignoring the warnings, he takes the car; it’s a BMW, not as flashy as an Aston, but still very smooth; he’s driving through the city, cursing at the GPS that talks in an incoherent translation to English.

 

The phone vibrates again and James groans.

 

_“12.00 sharp”_

 

He steals a look at his watch while slowing down at a red light; it is 11.30; he’s barely making it. He doesn’t know the city well. It is almost like a giant mirror to him, glinting, the streets mere copies of one another. People seem to wear identical clothing and identical haircuts; the shining surfaces of skyscrapers reflecting off each other.

He drives, ignoring the rules at times, trying to avoid traffic; where the hell is that street? He circles around the presumed location showing up on the GPS but there’s nothing.

 

Another incoming text, _“What’s taking you so long.”_

 

He texts back

_“5 mins.”_

 

The guy can go fuck himself.

 

Finally, the bloody street; an alleyway, rather; a dodgy place, rats crawling in the corners. The unglamorous side of Shanghai.

 

He pulls up, gets out of the car.

 

It’s snowing; bursts of snowflakes like little diamonds falling down the black city. He looks around; there’s a man standing at the end of the alley; blonde hair, long black coat, a cigarette caught between his lips; he types something on his phone, fingers flying over the screen.

 

James’ phone vibrates in his hand.

 

_“You’re 5 minutes over.”_

He approaches the blond man; raising up his phone.

 

‘No I’m not, ‘ he says.

 

The blond turns around, eyeing him up and down; drops the cigarette on the pavement, crushing it under his heel.

 

‘Stormy night, isn’t it,’ James says slowly; right hand pressed against the gun in his pocket. Carefulness is everything in this business.

 

The blond starts coughing suddenly, the sound ripping through the darkness.

 

‘Yeah.’

 

‘You alright?’ James asks.

 

‘I’m fine, ‘ the informant says. ‘Did you bring the folder?’

 

James holds it up.

 

‘So, can we talk?’

The informant reaches for it and James jerks his hand away, out of his reach.

 

‘We talk first.’ James says sternly.

 

‘What do you want to talk about?’ the blond says.

 

‘The agents who are working for the Chinese. You promised to inform us in exchange, ‘ holds up the folder again, ‘for this.’

 

‘Do you have identification?

 

James narrows his eyes. The blond stares back. In the faint light of the streetlights his hair and pale skin are almost making him appear angel-like.

 

‘Do you think I’m stupid enough to carry my badge with me?’ James smirks. ‘I’m Bond. James Bond.’

 

The blond looks at him, that intent focused look.

 

‘That’ll do.’

 

James thinks for a moment; then extends his right hand.

 

The blond shakes it; his grip firm, skin cold.

 

‘Raoul Silva.’

 

‘We can talk in my car,’ James says. ‘It’s bloody cold tonight.’

 

The blond nods, his eyes boring into the pocket where James has his gun in.

 

‘I’m sorry. Precautions, ‘ James leads the way. ‘Have you worked as an informant before?’

 

The blond man’s eyes narrow.

 

‘For… some time, yes.’

 

The voice is accented, the vowels soft and dragged out; Italian? Maybe Spanish.

‘Good,’ James nods.

 

He opens the passenger door for the informant.

 

‘Thank you.’

 

James gives him a quick smile.

‘Sure.’

 

He gets into the driver’s seat; the blond’s hand jerks to his pocket. Armed, then.

He then leans back, a seemingly relaxed gesture; the blond strands of hair against white leather certainly create an impression.

 

The blond’s eyes are however cold, impassionate; James locks the doors with a press of a button.

 

‘Well if you’ve done this before you know the rules.’

 

The blond holds his hand up.

 

‘Why didn’t you do as I said? The public train. 12 o’ clock sharp.’

 

‘It was faster this way, ‘ James says.

 

‘You were late, ‘ the blond reminds.

 

‘No, I wasn’t, I just wanted to make sure it was you.’

 

The blond rolls his eyes.

 

‘Just tell me what you know.’ James feels anger hiding somewhere right beneath the surface; good, it’s back then.

 

‘No, ‘ the blond says. ‘The file first.’

 

James congratulates himself; he guessed right – a control freak.

 

‘Fine.’

 

The blond takes the folder as soon as James hands it over; opens it, eyes gliding over the contents. Opens his coat, revealing a dark shirt; puts the folder into the inner pocket. A tiny patch of skin showing in between his sharp collarbones, white as cyanide.

 

He re-buttons his coat.

 

‘I’ll need the names of our rogue agents, ‘ James says. ‘And I need to know who else knows about this information. Their names too.’

 

The informant eyes him closely.

 

‘How many agents?’

‘However many you know.’

 

‘I need to know how many you think I can know, ‘ the blond says, ‘so that I know for sure that you’re MI6.’

 

‘Bloody Christ,’ James mutters and then the invisible string sort of snaps inside of him. The coldness of this city, the lack of sleep, the one-night stands. The informants who think they can control him.

 

‘I am MI6, you want to know the colour of M’s carpet in her office?’ he snaps. ‘It’s red and it has five dark patches on it because Tanner spilled his coffee on it. Twice.’

 

The blond holds his hands up.

 

‘And you promised _ten_ names, ‘ James adds. ‘But I think you know more.’

 

‘Why would you think that?’ the informant growls.

 

‘Oh just a hunch, ‘ James grins at him, not a trace of warmth.

 

 The informant narrows his eyes.

 

‘I got to know two more. So, twelve. And their location.’

 

‘I’m all ears, ‘ James says, trying to sound softer.

 

‘Do you want me to write it down?’ The blond’s hand moves towards his coat.

 

‘The camera’s recording you,’ James gestures at the dashboard.

 

 The blond cocks an eyebrow, his expression curious.

 

‘I didn’t know they gave junior agents expensive toys.’

 

His voice almost a growl, yet quiet.

 

‘Turn it off, ‘ the blond says.

 

‘I’m not a junior agent, ‘ James retorts. ‘I’ll have you know, I’m a double-oh.’

 

‘Still a junior, ‘ dark eyes eyeing him sneeringly. ‘Now turn it off.’

 

‘How come you know so much about our toys?’ James suddenly wonders.

 

‘Off and I might tell you.’

 

The blond’s face is suddenly back to the cold expression.

 James leans closer, trying to reach the invisible button on the dashboard; the blond

doesn’t move. The camera turns off with a switch.

 

The blond seemingly relaxes.

 

‘So. Did you want me to write it down?’

 

‘Sure, ‘ James says and leans closer again, this time hands going for the glove compartment. He takes out a pen and a piece of paper.

 

‘I’ll have that, ‘ the blond takes the pen and paper out of James’ hand, fingers brushing against his for a second. Blond quickly pulls his hand back.

 

It’s PTSD. James has seen it enough to know. It’s strange how much a man can show in one gesture. Still an early stage, apparently. Every touch is a potential trigger; people’s minds turned into landmines.

 

The blond starts writing.

 

‘I’m-I’m sorry, ‘ Bond says.

 

The blond ignores him and keeps writing; his handwriting atrocious; a strand of hair falling in front of his face as he writes down the last name.

 

‘I’m not going to write down the location, so listen carefully, ‘ the blond says. ‘They operate close to Linyi Xincun. You can get there by going down at Nanpu bridge. It’s not far from here. ”

 

‘I’ll find it, ‘ Bond nods.

 

‘Drive south for ten minutes, then you’ll see the bridge on your left hand side.’

The blond hands him the piece of paper.

 

‘Much appreciated, ‘ James says, hiding the paper in the special compartment under the wheel.

 

The blond bites his lower lip, face conflicted.

 

‘You know, I have to tell you…’

 

James looks up at him. The dark eyes are apparently blue; the darkest shade of blue, the way the ocean surface looks when you drown.

 

‘I did a little investigating myself at Linyi Xincun, ‘ the informant says. ‘And.. they may know you are coming.’

‘You could’ve gotten yourself killed, ‘ Bond says, eyes widening. ‘Who exactly are you? They barely told me anything, just that you’re a hacker and you’re willing to trade.’

 

The blond’s eyes glint.

 

‘Goodnight, Mr Bond. Unlock the doors please.’

 

‘When’s the next time?’ James asks.

 

‘I’ll text, ‘ the hacker gives him a faint smile before exiting.

 


	2. Night 2

 

‘M wanted to talk to you,’ Tanner’s irritated voice filling the hotel room. ‘Where have you been?’

 

James shrugs out of his jacket, glaring at the intercom.

 

‘Was meeting your informer.’

 

‘That was supposed to happen last night, wasn’t it?’ one of the supervisors asks.

 

James smirks, opening the freezer.

 

‘I was busy.’ Cracks a beer bottle open; he can see the reflection of himself in the smooth surface of the table. It is a sight: blood on his shirt in splatters, hands and face still covered in dirt and sand.

 

‘I’m not sure I need the details, ‘ Tanner says, voice slightly agitated.

 

‘I was checking the information; apparently it is correct. I found their hiding place, it was mostly empty, except for a few guards.‘  James says, taking out his gun. The dirt on it still visible.

 

‘And? What did they say?’ the supervisor asks.

 

‘They tried to shoot me, ‘ Bond closes his eyes, fingers curling into fists.

 

‘So they’re dead and we still don’t know who leaked the information on our security protocols, ‘ the supervisor snaps.

 

‘Maybe your hacker was the one who leaked it. Where do you even find these guys. ‘

 

‘What could possibly be wrong with him?’ Tanner asks worriedly.

 

‘Well I don’t know, did you even do a background check?’

 

‘Of course we did,’ the supervisor states coldly. ‘He’s clean and he has the information we need. So play nice. ‘

 

‘He seems to know a lot about us. ‘ James retorts, rolling one sleeve; the wound superficial, the tiny pieces of glass still imbedded in the skin.  

 

‘Well he probably supplied information against us, ‘ the supervisor answers, voice uncaring. ‘Like I said, play nice.’

 

‘So what is wrong with him anyway?’ Tanner repeats, a sound of fingers typing something.

 

‘There’s nothing wrong, ‘ James snaps, ‘Except that he is clearly suffering from a stress disorder, which would probably indicate he is an agent. If he is one of ours, I don’t understand why you wouldn’t tell me. And where the hell is M?’

 

‘Meeting with the Americans. Just make sure you do your job, will you, ‘ the supervisor says and the line goes dead.

 

 

♣♣♣

 

Silva sits in his bed that night, unable to sleep. The wind blowing through the thin unfitted windows; the noise coming through the walls from the neighbouring hotel rooms; the sounds mixing in his head, the paranoia stirring, like a caged animal.

Somehow the meeting was different that he expected; he can’t put a finger on it. The agent; those huge blue eyes, the breathy voice. Well, she certainly is quick to find new blood.

 

The digital clock going beep-beep on the nightstand. His hands shake when he goes for more than a couple of hours without medication.

 

Everything seems strange, blurry, out of focus, wrong. If he does sleep, he wakes after long heavy nightmares. Right before he opens his eyes there is a passing thought that he dreamed the escape and he is still in Chinese custody.

 

He sighs, listening to the wind.

 

And then he thinks – why not. Linyi Xincun’s security feed. The blue-eyed wonder will probably raid the place at some point.

 

He grabs his laptop, pressing the power button but it won’t turn on.

 

It takes a full minute before he finds the adapter; even his reactions are slower now. He mutters Spanish curses.

 

As soon as the laptop turns on he starts typing away. It doesn’t take long; he may have lost everything but not this talent.

It’s cold; he stands up to pick up a sweater; hand grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the bedside table.

He has the whole night.

♣♣♣

 

He listens to the wind wailing and wailing outside, watching the security feed.

Finally, a flash of light on one of the cameras; a door opening at the end of the hallway. A figure appears.

 

The blond’s head jerks up, forgetting to light up his cigarette.

 

It’s a man, a raised gun in his hand, confident posture. He is only a shadow on the screen, the light blocking out his features. He seems tall, his movements quick as mercury.

 

He overpowers the first two security guards; one of them shot dead, point blank. Another goes for the man’s wrist but the man gives him a hard punch in the stomach, rendering the guard unconscious.

‘Evening to you too, Mr Bond, ‘ the blond mutters to himself.

 

He lights up finally, hunched over the screen.

 

Bond is good; quick and very angry; rage coursing through his every muscle. Silva remembers the file ‘subject seems to experience bursts of uncontrollable rage’.

He watches the agent walk down the hallway and adds a few more cameras to his screen. A cigarette burning in his hand, he watches Bond as he enters a room. The room is a well lit space, with computers and various IT equipment, wires twining around the walls like lianas.

 

A few more guards run down the hallway; Silva tenses, despite himself.

Bond plugs something he has taken out of his pocket into one of the computers; the guards flung the door open and Bond turns around, shooting at them. He is precise; their bodies falling to the floor, blood spurting on the walls.

 

Bond returns to the computer, pressing a few buttons; the system is locked. The blond thinks for a moment, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Playing for the enemy again. Playing on Mommy’s side?

 

It’s worth the exchange, he tells himself.

 

He finds a camera with a lookout on the screen and tries to figure out the codes he should enter.

He is breathless, watching in awe as Bond punches another screen, the glass particles flying everywhere. He must have hurt his hand.

 

_He is like me. Damaged._

Voices flying in his head, again; the reality shifting, things are bright and then they aren’t. Men in uniforms pushing his face into the water. Water filled with ice and it hurts as it almost breaks against his face, the ferocity of the blows.

 

No.

 

He shakes his head and looks down at the screen.

 

It takes a few minutes but he hacks into the system; Bond watching as the string of code suddenly appears and the internal system files load onto his flash drive.

 

Silva smiles and then bites his lip as a guard rushes in; they fight, Bond is quick as mercury but the guard uses Chinese fighting techniques.

 

Bond punches the man, a hard blow to the jaw.

 

The man falls down. Bond puts a gun in the man’s mouth and screams something.

His body, the silhouette of it, it’s pure power. Strong, dangerous and angry. In control. Is that what it feels like?

 

Silva wishes he could remember.

 

It’s strange, this attraction much more like jealousy than infatuation. But what isn’t strange after they released him from the hospital; this new face, new identity, a hospital wristband still around his right arm. He rips it off in dreams but then wakes up and forgets to rip it off again.

 

The man is coughing, splashes of blood on the floor, barely visible on the cheap camera. Bond screams at him again, taking out the gun from his mouth and pressing it to the man’s temple.

 

The man says something.

 

Bond smiles. And then shoots him.

 

It takes almost a full minute before Silva realizes that he’s been peeling at his bottom lip.

 

Bond turns around; the computer screen he first touched shows that the system has been cracked. He must be surprised but quickly recovers, copying everything to the flash drive.

 

Presses a button on the drive; sending the information. The tools barely changed; but then again, why would they.

 

It’s only been… five months and then two. Silva feels a headache coming on; strange how much and how little can change in seven months.

 

James tucks the flash drive in his jacket, goes to the door, walking down the hallway. There’s a door on the opposite side from the computer room; he tugs at the door handle. The door opens; he looks around, gun raised and goes in, complete darkness enveloping him like a warm blanket.

 

There are sounds of gunshots but Silva won’t hear them because the cameras do not record sound.

 

Men appear in the hallway, seemingly five, dragging Bond out of the room; one man seems to be in charge, gesturing enthusiastically and shouting orders, his lips moving. Bond seems to say something, smirking. 

 

Silva’s hands flying over the keyboard; he checks that the fire alarm system is on and makes it go off.

 

A brief second, water rushing down from the ceiling, alarms going off; the man in charge instructs one of the henchmen to go check and he leaves – not the reaction Silva was hoping for. It’s hard to see through the rain of water but the man in charge says something to Bond and Bond looks defiant as ever. His suit is soaking wet, two henchmen holding his hands; he smirks up at the man in charge and says something.

 

The man comes closer, pressing a gun against Bond’s forehead.

And then time seems to stop; it’s almost as if this wasn’t real life, just a slow-motion scene of an action film as Silva watches Bond jerking one hand out of the henchman’s grip, fighting like a madman; he quickly shrugs out of his suit jacket, two men left holding it, clearly unprepared for the turn of events.

 

Bond punches the lead man in the stomach, going for his gun; turning around, quick as lighting, shooting at the men around him.

As the bodies fill the wet floor, he casually leans down, taking his jacket and runs out of the room and down the hallway.

 

Silva ignores the trembling in his hands and presses to change the cameras.

The view is sort of worth it; James running through the illuminated room, wet shirt clinging to his body like second skin; soaking cloth outlining his muscle structure. Silva bites on his lower lip.

 

And then Bond is outside and there are no cameras that show him because when he was entering he shot at them with remarkable precision.

Silva looks up from the screen; his cigarette has burned up in the ashtray.

He reaches for a pack but it’s empty.

 

He throws it across the room and leans back, the laptop snapped closed and put away.

He feels almost relieved. Gracias a Dios, he got out.

He imagines Bond speeding away in his car; he seems to like that car way too much. The thought makes him grin a little.

Silva rubs his eyes; dark bags under his eyes like shadows.

 

And then it comes back; like it always does. The nothingness swallowing him up, slowly, bit by bit. A feeling of desperation, throwing him off like a wave in a storm.

Ruffling a hand through his hair, tugging at the knots in it, not bothering to comb them out; he sighs. He feels like splashing water against his face and he walks to the bathroom.

 

A small mirror greeting him; he squints as he takes note of his appearance: dirty hair, long shadows under his eyes, unbuttoned shirt revealing scarred chest, thin wrists.

 

He looks away in disgust before slamming his fist against the mirror. It doesn’t shatter; a long wide crack appearing instead.

A piece of glass digging into his hand and he pulls it out, watching as the blood trails from his hand, falling to the sink.

He licks at the red liquid.

There are pills on the edge of the sink, he reaches for the bottle, taking much more than is intended.

 

He walks back to the bed the way a prisoner walks to his execution, feet dragging.

When in bed, he curls up, trying to fall asleep. The pills make everything seem small and quiet.

 

He wakes up from his phone buzzing; a new text.

 

From Bond.

 

He grabs the phone.

 

_Can we meet tonight? Went to the base. I need to verify something_

He reads it and texts back.

_I’ll bring my computer. What time, where_

 

He hates how this makes him feel; suddenly awake and lucid.

_I thought you wanted to decide that_

 

He grins.

_Pick me up at the hotel whenever suits you so you can’t be late_

 

He closes his eyes, remembering the images on the camera; Bond fighting the guards, quick and angry movements, blood, guns, and punches.

A new text vibrating in his lap, cutting through his reverie.

_I wasn’t late. Where’s the hotel_

 

He knows it’s risky; but it’s worth it. He can always run; for now, it will do.

_You bet you were. Loutangzhen district. I sent you the map._

 

A pause and he waits patiently.

_That’s a shithole isn’t it. When_

 

Silva rolls his eyes.

_Between 8 and 8:30. Don’t care_

 

Incoming text and he smiles.

_8 then_

_I’ll be ready at 8:10 then_

He thinks this is it for their text conversation and puts the phone on the nightstand when it buzzes again.

 

_Make sure you look pretty. It is our 2 nd date after all_

 

_Go fuck yourself.  You look good in a wet shirt though. I’ll give you that._

Silva types and presses send before he can feel regret washing over.

_Excuse me?_

 

He grins.

_8 PM. Don’t be late_

***

It’s already dark at eight; no snow tonight but the wind is ever-present.

James pulls up to the hotel and turns the ignition off, leaving the lights on.

 

He watches as a familiar figure stumbles out of the hotel; he sure looks different today. Messy blonde hair, coat half-buttoned; his walk much less confident.

 

And Bond finds it incredibly hot.

 

He flashes the lights twice and the blond notices the car.

 

Bond leans towards the passenger side and flings the door open.

 

Up close, the blond looks even skinnier; his skin the palest white, hair messed up, dark bags under his eyes. He gets in and lets himself fall on the seat, shutting the door, a laptop case under one arm.

 

Bond locks the doors.

‘Hello, ‘ the blond’s voice slightly hoarse.

‘Evening, ‘ Bond grins.

The blond looks away.

‘Well you sure are a sore sight, ‘ Bond teases lightly. ‘You alright?’

The blond turns his head.

‘Well aren’t you just a pretty sight then, ’ he snaps. And then sighs. ‘I’m fine. How are you?’

‘Was that a hidden compliment?’ Bond asks, one eyebrow raised.

The blond looks him dead in the eye.

‘Certainly not.’

And then his hands fly to his eyes, rubbing intensely to hide a smile.

‘I’m fine, ‘ Bond gives him a colder grin. ‘So, I suppose I should thank you.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Not that I couldn’t have done it myself, ‘ Bond adds.

The blond gives him an eye roll.

‘Why did you tune in anyway?’ Bond asks.

‘I was curious. ‘

The blond’s voice is softer; eyes slightly unfocused.

‘I actually did intend to thank you. You were a much better help than our idiots at MI6.’

The blond gives him a faint, tired smile, putting his head against the leather.

‘Yeah you better thank me.’

‘Well, this _is_ a trade, ‘ Bond says. ‘Whatever you ask, I suppose. In terms of things that are in my reach.’

A much brighter smile tugging at the blond’s lips now.

‘Well, let me think that over for a while. Did you bring the flash drive?’

‘Sure, ‘ Bond says, pulling it out.

He hands it over, their fingers brushing slightly.

The blond jerks his hand back, muttering  ‘Thanks.’

Bond tells him he doesn’t believe the man who said he was working for the Chinese because they commit their atrocities in the open. They wouldn’t have a secret base, not like this, Bond says and the Silva listens intently, while de-securing the drive.

It feels almost comfortable to be sitting next to him here, James realises and the thought feels suffocating, constricting around his throat as if someone was pushing wool down his throat.

 

‘What a bother,’ the blond sighs, looking at the screen.

 

‘What is it?’ James asks, looking back at him. And damn him, he looks so bloody fragile in the pale light of the streetlights, those huge bottomless eyes illuminated by the glow from the screen. Fragile and easy to break, except James can tell – he isn’t.  

‘It seems.. it locked itself again, ‘ the blond explains, raising an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know the Chinese had such an advanced knowledge of IT.’

 

James laughs.

 

‘A couple months ago.. ‘ Silva starts and then his voice trails off.

‘Well? What happened?’

 

But the blond shakes his head, his fingers typing away. There’s a significant pause before he mumbles: ‘Nothing. It’s not important. They were just easier to hack.’

‘Can you get past it?’ James asks, gesturing at the screen.

‘Yeah. Easy, ‘ the blond says.

‘You _are_ good, ‘ James admits, watching him work his magic.

The blond grins, stealing a glance in James’ direction.

‘I know.’

James smirks, meeting his eyes briefly.

Something beeps and the blond looks satisfied.

‘Ah. And there we have it.’

He turns the screen to James.

‘They’re working on something, ‘ his eyes scanning the files, ‘building plans…’

His fingers moving on the touchpad, scrolling through and the blond bites his lip because the laptop is still in his lap.

‘This.. This has files on most of our low-rank agents, ‘ Bond’s eyes widening, ‘All the classified information on them. This is huge. You _are_ good.’

The blond looks back with huge tired eyes.

‘What else is new.’

‘I can’t believe they overlooked a system breach this big. Our IT security department is good for nothing.’

‘I know, ‘ the blond mutters.

‘Can you securely save this onto something for me?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

The laptop is turned away from James, the blond busy typing. Suddenly, he frowns.

‘A problem?’

‘No, it’s.. the file is bigger than expected. There might be more.’

Strings of code rolling down the screen as James watches.

Silva’s eyes glint in the semi-dark and he turns the laptop towards Bond.

‘Here. Photos. Recognise anyone?’

Bond swears.

‘What is it?’ the blond asks.

‘This is obviously supposed to be sealed. Good to know how secure our system is, ‘ Bond rolls his eyes. ‘This is half of my department.’

‘You should tell MI6 that, ‘ the blond advises snarky.

James leans closer to the laptop, scrolling though the photos; the blond again tensing at the almost-physical contact of their bodies.

There’s a picture of James smiling at a woman, both of them holding champagne in tall glasses.

‘Who is that?’ the blond asks, eyes boring into James’.

‘An ex colleague, ‘ James says, avoiding the eye contact. ‘Worked for the Treasury.’

He scrolls further.

‘If you want to ask…’ Bond starts, stealing a brief glance at the informant.

‘It’s your business. But.. I’m curious.’

‘Betrayed me and the organisation for her boyfriend. A terrorist, ‘ James grins coldy.

The blond’s eyes darken.

‘I’m sorry, ‘ he says.

‘Why?’ Bond snaps, turning to look at the blond, their faces too close.

‘Betrayal… is the worst, ‘ Silva elaborates slowly before turning away, looking out the window.

‘Believing is the worst, ‘ Bond corrects.

The informant breathes out, condensation forming on the glass.

‘Will you save these too? I need them.’

‘Betrayal is the worst result then, ‘ Silva says, turning back. ‘Yeah, I’ll do that.’

He is done in a matter of seconds; pulls the flash drive out and holds it out.

‘I’m sorry too, ‘ James says, eyes serious. He takes the drive, touching the blond’s hand briefly.

The blond looks at him, studying his face.

‘And why would you be, ‘ he says, almost softly.

‘I think you know what you’re talking about, ‘ Bond says slowly, hiding the flash drive in a special compartment of the car.

The blond breaks eye contact, staring at his knees, a strand of hair falling in front of his face.

‘Betrayal is the worst, ‘ James quotes back to him, ‘Whoever did it, I’m sorry.’

The blond opens his mouth slightly, taking a pause.

‘Thank you, ‘ he says eventually, voice slow, careful.

Minds turned into mine fields.

‘It’s alright, ‘ James smiles. ‘Big plans for tonight then?’

‘Yeah, ‘ the blond sneers, ‘Parties all over the city. I’m such a party animal, you don’t even want to know.’

‘I might, ‘ James grins.

The blond looks up, eyeing him curiously, fingers drumming on the laptop.

‘Your sarcasm. I like dry humour.’

Bond meets his eyes.

‘Do you?’

‘Most things are good dry, ‘ James remarks, ‘Martinis, humour, climates.’

‘You must hate Shanghai then, ‘ the blond says slowly, not turning away. ‘It’s so moist.’

‘I’m willing to give it a try, ‘ James’ eyes glint.

 ‘How long has it..’ the blond starts.

‘Barely two weeks.’

‘Never experienced Chinese summer then?’ the blond asks and goes on without waiting for an answer, ‘It’s horrible, smog is everywhere. Winter is better. Despite the cold.’

‘Oh so summer is horrible too?’ James sneers. ‘Good to know.’

‘Might want to run back to England soon, ‘ the blond smiles.

‘Run?’ the James’ grin gets wider, ‘Not my style.’

‘Mmm you’re the one for expensive cars, aren’t you, _Mr Bond_ , ‘ the blond says, fingers gliding over the dashboard.

‘You noticed, ‘ James says, eyes mischievous.

‘And bold, ignoring an informant’s orders,’ the blond continues. ‘While my information is… crucial.’

His eyes shining at Bond, inviting and promising everything that ever gets promised in the dark.

‘And much appreciated, ‘ Bond says, eyes following the movements of Silva’s fingers.

‘To take the risk you must really love this car, ‘ Silva says teasingly.

‘Maybe I just dress to impress, ‘ James says.

The blond pretends to eye him up and down.

‘It doesn’t show, ‘ his voice soft, lips stretched into a lethal grin.

‘Is that right?’ James raises one eyebrow mockingly.

‘I liked you better in that wet shirt, ’ the blond offers, innocent eyes glistening through eyelashes. He reaches for the door handle.

Bond feels his body tensing slightly, mouth parting.

‘’I think the door is locked, ‘ he finally says. ‘Do you wish to get out?’

 ‘I need to attend to my… parties, ‘ Silva turns back to him, eyes narrowing.

‘Of course, ‘ Bond gives him an intense look. ‘Till next time.’

He presses a button and the door unlocks.

‘I’ll text, ‘ the blond laughs, getting out. He almost closes the door but then turns back and leans down, sticking his head back into the car.

‘Good evening… Mr Bond.’

He slams the door shut and walks towards the hotel.

 


	3. Night 3

The next time they meet it’s another alleyway, just south of Pudong; James drives again and this time he’s early.

 

‘You wanted to know how I knew about your toys.’

 

There’s a pause between them; the silence cold, but not uncomfortable.

 

‘I used to be an agent myself, ‘ the blond says slowly.

 

James gets a grip on his expression just fast enough.

 

‘Used to be? How does that work?’

 

The blond shakes his head.

 

‘That’s not of importance.’

 

‘But they don’t know, ‘ James says, reading his eyes. ‘Otherwise, they would’ve mentioned it. Which means.. that I’m the only one who does know.’

 

The blond’s lashes flicker.

 

‘Or maybe they just don’t trust you.’

 

‘Are you rogue too?’

 

‘I’m _not_ an agent anymore, ’ the hacker says, a flash of anger colouring his words.

 

‘So you’re not working for anyone?’ James is suspicious of this.

 

‘Why?’

 

‘Your coat is Burberry, ‘ James says. ‘Easily a thousand pounds. That suit jacket?

Tailored. The watch? I’m not sure I know the brand, too modern for my taste, but clearly expensive.’

 

The blond’s ocean-deep eyes stare into him and he feels the gaze on his skin.

 

‘Money isn’t everything, Mr Bond.’

 

‘And yet you’re clearly doing well for yourself.’

 

One hand trailing up, the blond is touching his own left cheek, eyes unfocused; and then the moment is broken, he jerks his hand back, noticing Bond looking.

 

‘As an ex-agent, I’m sure you know,’ James says, trying to sound reasonable. ‘These situations are risky. I’m just evaluating my exposure.’

 

The informant seems to wait for a moment before asking.

 

‘How many men have you killed? Being a double-oh.’

 

Bond feels his own eyes widening. What the hell?

 

‘Many. Why?’

 

‘Because it never gets easier.’

 

The blond’s voice sounding strangely distant.

 

‘I don’t want to kill you, ‘ James raises an eyebrow.

 

‘I wasn’t talking about that.’

 

The snow keeps falling and falling.

 

‘I’m sorry, ‘ James says, giving him a polite smile. ‘But… are you alright?’

 

The blond starts laughing maniacally, eyes bright, the sound of roaring laughter crashing and echoing against the small space of the BMW.

 

‘Am I alright…’

 

He throws his hands in the air, eyes animated for the first time, hair a bit dishevelled; James eyes him curiously.  

 

‘I’ve known you for what—fifteen minutes and you’re the first to ask that. In a very, very long time,’ the blond clarifies bitterly after the laughter dies down.

 

‘Well, I think you’re clearly not.’ James says slowly.

 

This probably won’t end well.

 

‘You smoke right?’ James asks hesitantly.

 

The blond sighs.

 

‘Yeah.’

 

James reaches in his pocket, retrieving a pack and a lighter. A cigarette between his lips but it won’t light up.

 

‘My lighter’s out.’

 

The blond searches his own pockets. James extends an opened pack as an offer.

 

When he pulls out a lighter, it’s black, the surface glossy, a macabre print with a skull.

 

‘Damn that’s beautiful, ‘ James mutters through the cigarette and leans down slightly.

 

The blond lights it up for him; James inhaling, eyes looking up at him through the smoke. The same black coat, painfully thin wrists, dark eyes. Fragility is the word flying above James’ head, if he ignores the gun in the informant’s pocket. The blond lights up.

 

‘Thanks. ‘

 

 ‘Welcome, ’ the blond mumbles, hand playing with the lighter.

 

‘These are good quality, ‘ James says. ‘They’re softer or something.’

 

The informant squints through the smoke.

‘They’re nice.’

 

‘I noticed you were coughing, ‘ James gives him his trademark smile.

 

A crooked smile back as a prize; well, he can work with that.

 

‘You want a ride?’ James asks. ‘I did break your rule again, so. Might as well.’

 

‘That’d be nice, ’ the blond says after a short pause. ‘Do you know any nice hotels in the neighbourhood? I don’t think I can stand living in mine anymore.’

 

‘I’m fairly new to the city, ‘ James admits. ‘I know mine, few across from mine.’

‘I actually live in Hong Kong, ‘ the blond smiles, but it never quite reaches his eyes.

‘Hong Kong is beautiful, isn’t it, ‘ James inhales again.

Silva takes the cigarette out and bites his lower lip.

 

‘Yeah. Beautiful. Is your hotel close then?’ he asks, turning to James.

 

‘It is close if you know where you’re going, ‘ James laughs.  ‘It has the biggest ice bar in the world, ‘It is made of ice.’

 

‘Well I’ll have to see that, ‘ the blond’s dark blue eyes narrow. ‘Let’s go.’

 

‘So cold there, ‘ James says, blowing out tiny circles of smoke and throwing his cigarette out of the window before rolling it back up.

 

‘It’s cold everywhere, ‘ Silva retorts softly.  He starts coughing violently, his lithe body shaking in bursts. ‘I really—urgh—should stop smoking so much.’ He admits, coughing.

 

‘Can I finish yours?’ Bond leans closer, taking the cigarette out of the blond’s shaking hand.

 

The blond’s eyes following his movements carefully; he doesn’t object and James wraps his lips around the cigarette, eyes closing blissfully.

 

Silva breaks into a coughing fit again, eyes watering. There’s blood on his lips and he tries to wipe it away with his hand.

 

‘Bloody hell, that’s not good, ‘ James says, noticing. ‘When’s the last time you’ve seen a doctor?’

 

He finishes the cigarette and throws it out of the window, starting the car.

 

‘That, ‘ the blond says quietly, ‘is not from smoking. It’s from something else.’

 

‘Remember the medical training? If you cough blood it means your lung may be ruptured.‘ Bond remembers, pulling out of the alleyway.

 

Silva’s hand flies to his face, fingers brushing against the left side of his jaw.

 

‘It’s not coming from my lungs, ‘ he shakes his head slowly.

 

Bond starts speeding off through the dark roads, the car engine roaring.

 

‘You sure?’

 

The blond nods and turns to look out the window. Bond glides and glides through narrow alleyways before reaching the highway.

 

‘Damn… After I reach the highway, which exit do I take? I’m staying at the Mandarin.’

 

Silva points at a sign, quickly reading it.

 

‘Take the second.’

 

‘Perfect, ‘ Bond grins, skillfully cutting cars off. ‘You should drive with me more often.’

 

‘Or you should learn to read Kanji properly, ‘ the blond gives him a look.

 

The car is roaring, Bond breaking every speed limit in the city.

 

‘It’s a nuisance, ‘ the blond says with a sigh. ‘And hard to understand.’

 

‘Thank you for the sympathy, ‘ James grins. ‘It is horrific. I’ve barely learned Arabic and Mandarin and now this.’

 

He takes the second exit, other cars left behind one by one.

 

‘Been there, done that, ‘ the blond grins back.

 

‘The next one I want to master is Spanish, ‘ Bond says, taking a few turns when they enter the city streets again. Never managed to do it.’

 

‘¿Entiendes esto?’ the blond smiles at him.

 

Bond turns to him for a moment, one hand on the wheel, eyes shining.

 

‘That’s beautiful.’

 

The snow is falling down again, the trees along the road with no leaves looking somberly black. They share this moment between them, almost dream-like; eyes connected.

 

‘I have no idea what it means, ‘ Bond laughs softly. ‘But it’s beautiful.’

 

The blond chuckles.

‘I literally asked: Do you understand this?‘

 

‘Oh, ‘ James says, turning his attention back to the road.

 

‘Apparently not, ‘ the blond teases.

 

‘Mmm how do you say “No I don’t” then?’ Bond asks, gas pedal pressed to the floor as he ignores the red light.

 

‘No, yo no.’

 

James repeats with a heavy British accent and they both laugh.

 

‘I sound horrible, don’t I.’

 

‘Try saying it while not putting your tongue against your palate, ‘ Silva advises. ‘It feels weird but I think it’ll help.’

 

James repeats it once more.

 

‘That’s better already, ‘ the blond laughs light-heartedly.

 

‘If you want, you can turn the heater on, ‘ Bond says, noticing it is getting colder and colder inside the car.

 

The blond’s long thin fingers brush against the dashboard, fumbling.

 

Pulling up behind cars at the intersection, the traffic much heavier than it was before, Bond reaches down and presses a button.

 

‘Here, ‘ he gives the blond his trademark smile, ’25 hot enough for you?’

 

‘That’ll do, ‘ the blond replies, smiling back.

 

‘The traffic is unconscionable here, isn’t it, ’ James remarks, fingers drumming against the wheel.

 

‘Even more so in Hong Kong, ‘ the blond says, looking as the comically big snowflakes fall against the passenger window.

 

Bond runs his fingers through his hair, ruffling it up.

 

‘I barely remember it. Was a short mission.’

 

The blond turns to him, eyeing him with unmasked curiosity.

 

‘When were you in Hong Kong?’ he asks.

 

‘About two months ago I think. The dates get blurred… Is that a normal thing?’ Bond wonders out loud.

 

The blond gives him a nod.

 

‘I feel like it could’ve been two months and could’ve been a year, you know?’ Bond explains.

 

‘You start focusing on the important things, ‘ the blond laughs, almost bitterly. ‘Dates? Not so much.’

 

‘I did save someone’s life there, ‘ Bond remembers absent-mindedly, the red lights of the cars in front of them filling everything with a sense of urgency.

 

‘Did you? ‘ Silva looks away. ‘Tell me about it.’

 

‘Yes, Raoul, ‘ Bond gives him a grin, ‘But you know, it’s classified. But maybe I can trade it.’

 

It takes a moment before Silva realizes “Raoul” is his name. He looks up, cursing himself.

 

‘For what then?’

 

‘Well, since you-re ex-MI6 and all, ‘ Bond grins, ‘it’s going to be just a drink.’

 

The blond’s eyes narrow.

 

‘Alright.’

 

The cars finally start moving.

 

‘It’s about time, ‘ Bond says.

 

‘Dios mío, finally,’ the blond echoes.

 

‘Spanish is your mother tongue isn’t it, ‘ Bond says, speeding up from the intersection. ‘So that’s why you’re so perfect at it.’

 

‘Yes, ‘ the blond says, lips tightening.

 

‘Well, there it is. The Mandarin Oriental, ‘ Bond nods at the huge illuminated hotel building at the end of the street.

 

‘Impressive,’ the blond chuckles. ‘Must be expensive too?’

 

‘Luckily the Queen is paying, ‘ Bond grins.

 

Silva smiles back at him, eyes dark.

 

They pull up to the front entrance, the valets waiting around to park the guests’ cars. The blond tries opening the door but it’s still locked. He looks back, meeting Bond’s mischievous eyes.

 

‘Shall you check out our ice bar then?’

 

‘Mm. And I owe you a drink, too, ‘ the blond says.

 

‘Yes I’m afraid you do, Mr Silva, ‘ Bond drawls out.

 

‘And you have to tell me that story, ‘ the blond retorts.

 

Bond nods, unlocking the doors.

 

He gives the keys to the valet and they go inside, the biting wind penetrating layers of their clothes.

The informant starts coughing again and Bond turns to him, stopping.

 

‘You alright?’

 

The blond tries to say something but the coughing gets worse and he leans forward, eyes watering.

 

‘F—fi-fine, ‘ he manages to gasp. ‘

 

‘I think you should definitely see a doctor for this, ‘ Bond says, putting a hand on the blond’s shoulder.

 

He shakes it off and starts walking towards the entrance. James follows, watching the blond’s unsteady walk.

 

As they walk through the gorgeously illuminated lobby, staff in black and white suits, towards the entrance of the bar, James turns to the blond.

 

‘You sure you want to go to the ice bar with that cough? There’s a second one, it’s not as cold there.’

 

‘It’s beautiful here, ‘ Silva says slowly.

 

And it is. Sparks of blue light caught in the reflections of the iced walls and surfaces; men and women in expensive clothes with special jackets that are given at the entrance to keep the guests warm, their laughs filling up the cold space; rows of bottles, champagne and wines and liquor, at the back of the bar. 

 

They put on their jackets and sit down at the bar, the surface tantalizingly cold. They’re closer to each other this way, much closer than in a car and James watches the reflections of the bright bar lights in the darkness of the blond’s eyes.

 

‘I suppose you should choose, ‘ Bond grins. ‘But I like whiskey.’

 

‘I think I have something in mind that you would like, ‘ the blond says, raising his hand slightly to attract the barman’s attention.

 

‘Is that right, ‘ Bond muses mischievously, watching the blond. His hair illuminated from the lights, giving him an almost angelic-like glow.

 

‘Two shots of Macallan please, ‘ Silva says to the waiter.  ‘No ice, since you can’t spare it.’

 

Bond laughs, eyeing the blond admiringly.

 

‘It’s so scarce, ‘ Silva whispers to him, eyes glinting.

 

‘I’ve never tried Macallan, ‘ James smiles.

 

‘I’m sure you’ll like it, ‘ the blond responds, stopping when the waiter brings their drinks. ‘Now…’

 

He takes his glass and Bond takes his.

 

‘So what’s the toast?’ Silva asks, one eyebrow raised.

 

‘I guess to working together?’ Bond smiles, raising his drink.

 

A content laugh escaping his lips, the blond mirrors his movement and takes a sip.

 

‘A bit cheesy I guess, ‘ James says, drinking up.

 

‘Oh, just fine enough, ‘ the blond eyeing him closely.

 

James moans at the taste.

 

‘Do you like it?’

 

‘This is heavenly, ‘ James closes his eyes for a moment.

The blond takes another gulp.

 

‘Apparently this is the twelve-year old one. You should really try the fifty year old variant. It’s even better.’

 

‘You can tell, ‘ Bond grins approvingly.

 

‘I can smell, ‘ the blond laughs softly, a strip of blindingly white teeth between full lips. ‘Oh to be frank, I’m not such a good taster.’

 

James tears his eyes off the blond to take another sip; the angles of his cheekbones amplified by the lights and Silva can’t help but look.

 

‘Now, Mr Bond. I believe you have a story to tell.’

 

‘James, ‘ James grins, the stare not going unnoticed.

 

‘Alright. _James_.’

 

‘God your accent, ‘ James laughs softly. ‘Hmm, the Hong Kong mission? Well it was brief but I ran into some trouble with our supervisors; a woman was essentially a fraud, betrayed out government and sold our secrets to the Chinese and a man was captured as a result. An agent, one of ours. They thought it was a waste of time to return for him; I didn’t.’

 

James drinks a little more, the whiskey burning down his throat gloriously.

 

The blond starts coughing, swallowing a couple of times to stop it.

 

‘I really don’t like that cough, ‘ James says, eyes narrowing, ‘It must feel terrible.’

 

The blond weakly motions for him to continue the story with a faint “it’s all right”.

 

‘I ignored the orders. I knew where the man was held, so I stole a car from one of the fellow agents. ‘ Bond gestures to the barman, ‘Another, please.’

 

The blond’s face stern, looking at him intently.

 

‘And I drove to the base.  Actually, ‘ he turns to the barman who came to pick up their empty glasses, ‘can we get the oldest Macallan you’ve got?’

 

The blond raises an eyebrow and James winks at him, enjoying the smile it causes.

 

‘I shot the bitch dead, made sure the man was taken to the hospital. MI6 weren’t happy that I disobeyed but…’ James rolls his eyes.

 

‘What happened to the agent?’ Silva asks, voice soft.

 

‘Not sure, probably he is in London now. Desk duty?’ James says, watching the blond’s eyes wandering off. ‘Actually, I don’t know. Haven’t seen him in the headquarters and I’ve only seen him briefly. When I found him there, I was focused on getting us out.’

 

The barman brings the new drinks and James smells it.

 

‘Well it smells like good scotch, ‘ he laughs.

 

The informant takes a swig, hands slightly trembling and shakily laughs back.

 

Bond drinks up and lets his eyes roll back in pleasure.

 

‘Oh, ‘ he moans, ‘Now I know what you mean.’

 

He licks his lips, taking another swig.

 

The blond smiles at his reaction, his face still slightly tense.

 

‘The story… you seem captivated by it.’ He looks at the blond; ruffled blonde hair shimmering in the lights, pale skin, long lashes. The blond stares into the distance, not blinking.

 

‘Raoul?’ James brushes a hand against the informant’s arm.

 

And then the blond looks up, seemingly coming to his senses and jerks his arm away, looking around, a horrified expression in his eyes.

Bond almost spills his drink, putting it on the ice surface quickly. The blond’s face softens a bit.

 

‘I’m—‘ James starts.

 

‘I’m sorry, ‘ the blond says.

 

‘I didn’t mean to—‘

 

‘No, my bad, sorry, sorry, ‘ Silva mumbles.

 

‘Are you alright?’ James asks, leaning closer.

 

‘Yeah, I’m fine, I—‘ he looks down, shaking his head. ‘It’s nothing.’

 

‘Look, I don’t know what happened to you and that’s absolutely your business, ‘ James whispers, making sure he doesn’t touch the blond anymore. ‘But I’ve seen things. Our job isn’t the easiest.’

 

Dark blue meeting sapphire blue briefly; Bond doesn’t like the jolt of electricity he feels, being this close.

 

‘In fact, sometimes it is rather unsettling, ‘ James finishes.

 

The blond looks away, uncomfortable.

 

‘Your eyes, ‘ James says softly. ‘They’re dark blue? I was trying to figure it out.’

 

‘Yes, ‘ the blond whispers and takes a swig of his whiskey.

 

‘They remind me of the ocean, ‘ James says and the blond’s mouth twitches a little, corners of lips curling upwards.

 

‘Thank you,’ Silva answers after swallowing a few times. ‘Your eyes are beautiful too. Very remarkable.’

 

‘Oh, ‘ Bond gives him a warm smile, ‘Thank you sir. No one has ever said that before.’

 

‘I don’t believe that, ‘ the blond says softly.

 

‘They usually say ‘good in bed’ or they like the muscles, ‘  Bond grins. ‘But never the eyes.’

 

‘Then they must be blind, ‘ Silva replies, his eyes betrayingly trailing up and down James’ body.

 

‘Maybe they are, ‘ James breathes.

 

‘Positive, ‘ Silva assures him. He drops his head, strands of hair falling in front of his face.

 

‘Your hair is gorgeous, ‘ James mutters.

 

‘Hmm?’ Silva looks up. ‘What was that?’

 

‘Your hair, ‘ James repeats, biting his lower lip. ‘I really like it.’

 

Silva follows the movement.

 

‘Mmm. I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you then. It’s not naturally this colour.’

 

‘Really. Well it fits you.’

 

‘Ever seen a blond Spaniard?’ Silva raises an eyebrow. ‘Why, thank you.’

 

‘I’ve never been to Spain, actually, ‘ James laughs.

 

‘Why do you want to learn Spanish then? Latin America?’

 

‘I just think it is really beautiful, ‘ Bond says. ‘The language of love and all that.’ He watches the blond’s eyes widening. ‘Wish they’d make me go to Spain instead of here. It must be beautiful, right.’

 

‘Eso es verdad, ‘ Silva says slowly, smiling devilishly. ‘And.. much warmer.’

 

‘Bloody hell, ‘ James grins. ‘Sounds incredible.’

 

‘Does it?’

 

‘Say something else, ‘ Bond says, meeting his eyes.

 

‘¿Cómo que?’

 

‘Language of love, indeed, ‘ Bond’s eyes darken.

 

‘Lenguaje del amor, ‘ the blond smiles.

 

Bond bites his lower lip and Silva leans forward slightly.

 

‘Do you want to hear more?’

 

‘Yes, ‘ James whispers, a blissful surrender. ‘More.’

 

‘Tus ojos son hermosos. Amo el color, ‘ the blond whispers back.

 

‘That, ‘ Bond narrows his eyes, ‘means something about the eyes, doesn’t it?’

 

‘Mm. Sí, ‘ the blond grins.

 

‘So tell me?’ Bond leans closer, their faces mere inches apart.

 

‘Tome una conjetura. Take a guess.’

 

‘Tus.. which means yours, ‘ Bond says slowly, licking his lips.

 

‘Sí. Es verdád, ‘ the blond smiles and repeats. ‘Son hermosos.’

 

‘Beautiful?’ Bond asks, already knowing the answer.

 

The blond nods.

 

‘Gracias then, Raoul, ‘ Bond grins, the “l” slightly drawled out; his hand brushes against Silva’s knee lightly and the blond startles at the touch before visibly trying to relax.

 

‘Siempre te esperamos. You are welcome, ‘ he grins.

 

‘I won’t even try to repeat that, ‘ Bond says, eyes glinting. ‘I don’t want to ruin it.’

 

‘Mm, try it, ‘ the blond urges, ‘¿Para mi?’

 

‘Umm.. siemp—siempre?’

 

‘Siempre, ‘ the blond repeats, lips moving in rhythm with James’.

 

‘Siempre, ‘ Bond whispers.

 

‘That’s it, ‘ dark blue eyes lighting up, ‘Te esperamos.’

 

‘Te, ‘ James repeats, trying to mimic the accent, ‘esperamos?’

 

The blond’s eyes glistening; he’s clearly enjoying this.

 

‘Siempre te esperamos, ‘ Bond repeats slowly, voice a bit shaky.

 

‘That’s it! ‘ Silva exclaims happily.

 

‘God I can’t believe it means you’re welcome, ‘ James laughs. ‘It sounds like…’ He shakes his head, grinning.

 

‘Like what?’ Silva raises an eyebrow.

 

‘Like something you’d whisper to a lover, ‘ Bond says and watches the blond’s eyes widen as he meets them with his own. The blond smiles.

 

‘You also said something else, ‘ James remembers. ‘When you were talking about my eyes. You have to tell me. ’

 

‘Mm. Amo el color. You know that, ‘ Silva says, not breaking the eye contact.

 

Of course he knows but it is so distracting when all he can think about is the way that voice would sound under him, moaning.

 

‘Amo… love? Oh, ‘ James realizes, ‘Right.’

 

‘Got it?’ the blond asks, finishing his drink.

 

‘But… they’re just blue, ‘ Bond says.

 

‘No, no, no, ‘ the blond stresses, ‘They’re… remarkable. Muy bonito. ‘

 

‘Bloody hell, ‘ James grins, biting his lower lip, ‘I--Thank you.’

 

‘Siempre te esperamos, ‘ Silva chuckles and mirrors the movement unconsciously.

 

‘Mmm see, I know that now, ‘ Bond says, looking at the blond’s lips. ‘So. Have you ever seen Shanghai from the 50th floor?’

 

The blond’s eyes shine but he moves back slightly.

 

‘I’m sorry, James, ‘ he says softly, his eyes filled with regret. ‘Maybe another night.’

 

Bond gives him a cold smile, motioning to the barman.

 

The blond starts searching for his wallet, going through the pockets and Bond leans in.

 

‘It’s like sparks, ‘ he whispers, ‘The whole city buzzing with energy. An ocean of colours. ‘

 

The blond looks up.

 

‘Well I can’t wait to see it then, ‘ he says slowly.

 

‘And put away your money, will you? ‘ Bond adds. ‘This is on the Queen.’

 

‘I… was going to buy you a drink, ‘ the blond says, eyes narrowing. ‘Let me pay. Por favor?’

 

‘Sure. Raoul, ‘ Bond growls out the vowels a little.

 

Silva gives the barman money, cash with a huge tip and gets up.

 

‘Goodnight then, James, ‘ he says, eyes glimmering.

 

And James watches as he walks away towards the lobby.

 


	4. Night 4

**Part 1**

 

He stands at a street corner; one of the outer districts, less of the flashiness, more of the danger. He walks and walks, but there is not a taxi in sight. He bites his already raw bottom lip, reaching in his pocket for the phone.

No.

He shakes his head. I won’t ask him.

He walks further, gushes of restless wind burning him with cold through the layers of wool of the coat, the hem flowing behind him like dark wings.

He shivers and sighs, taking out the phone and typing a text.

_U busy?_

_Not more than usual. Why?_

He smiles before he can stop himself. Mr Bond, so agreeable.

_Could you pick me up?_

He shivers in his coat, the wind blowing straight through it.

_Sure. Where?_

_Yuepuzhen district, railway station_

 He walks, following the signs to the station.

_You seem to enjoy shitholes_

_Why thank you_ he types in response, grinning.

 _20 mins tops_ comes the answer.

 _Thx,_ Silva texts, leaning against a wall, raiding his pockets for cigarettes. He opens the pack but he is out; apparently, now a pack only lasts him slightly over two days.

Every time he closes his eyes when he is alone, he remembers. He remembers the hospital; memories brief and probably unreliable; his body must have been going into shock but for some reason the voices, the voices always remain through the fog of harsh fluorescent lights and white coats hanging over him. The voices loud, shouting to each other. He remembers their intonation, their words filled with medical jargon. Some easier to understand, some familiar due to training. Acute cyanide poisoning, cardiac arrest, tachycardia; “five milligrams of atropine” a deeper voice shouts in Mandarin but he doesn’t even feel the sting of a needle. Funny, he doesn’t really remember the pain; his body burning like fire and not just skin – somewhere inside, an agony of fierce fire, but not the actual pain, not like when he was being tortured.

He sighs and then hears an unmistaken roar of an expensive car engine; he looks up. An Aston Martin, rushing down the cold dirty street towards him. The passenger window rolls down.

‘Get in then, ‘ James’ impossibly blue eyes greeting him.

He quickly does, lowering the passenger seat immediately; he’s too tall for the low ceiling.

‘Nice car, ‘ he tells James.

‘How about a drink then?’ James grins, rolling the window back up. ‘You could use one, ‘ he adds, looking Silva up and down.

‘That’s true, ‘ the blond admits, grinning back. ‘Sure.’

‘This better?’ James asks, turning the heating up.

‘Yes. Thank you, ‘ Silva replies, still shivering slightly.

‘Siempre… Whatever it was, ‘ James grins, the pedal to the floor and the car roaring off.

‘Te esperamos, ‘ Silva helps, smiling back.

 ‘Exactly, ‘ Bond says, the car reaching the highway in seconds.

‘You remembered, ‘ Silva nods appreciatively. ‘Well, half of it.’

‘I’m afraid I may need another lesson, ‘ Bond says, changing lanes.

The blond smiles, putting his head back against the leather as he watches Bond break all speed limits, clearly enjoying the drive.

‘What do you want to know?’ Silva asks, relaxing into the warmth.

Bond turns to steal a glance at him.

‘I want a lot of things, Raoul. ‘

Silva turns to look at him, mouth slightly open.

One car signals loudly as Bond cuts it off.

‘Like what?’ The blond asks, his eyes widening.

‘Like for example, ‘ Bond replies slowly with a devilish grin, ‘How long were you looking for a taxi before texting me.’

Silva grits his teeth.

‘Not answering that one, I see, ‘ Bond chuckles.

‘I’m an informant, ‘ Silva reminds, ‘I’ll trade information for information. You have to tell me how you got this Aston Martin instead of the BMW.’

‘BMW wasn’t mine, ‘ Bond speeds up, bypassing cars. ‘Had to use it because this baby was a bit damaged.’

Silva looks at him expectantly.

‘Some thugs followed me on a ride to Shanghai, ‘ Bond explains. ‘Two weeks ago. Tried to make me go off a bridge.’

Silva chuckles, shaking his head.

‘Of course. Chasing spies.’

‘That’s the job,’ Bond gives him his trademark smile. ‘So how long did it take you?’

‘Forty minutes, ‘ Silva says, not immediately realising he has just admitted remembering how exactly long it was.

‘You must be freezing, ‘ Bond eyes him.

 ‘Yeah, but I always am, ‘ the blond says slowly.

‘Next time just text, will you.’

‘I didn’t want to bother you, ‘ Silva confesses, looking at the skyscrapers.

‘You wouldn’t, ‘ Bond says, driving into a tunnel. ‘I don’t sleep at 2 in the morning.’

The blond nods, turning to look at him intently.

‘Thank you. Where are we going?’

‘I think you agreed to a drink earlier, ‘ Bond grins.

‘I know, but where?’ Silva chuckles.

Bond speeds out of the tunnel, taking the yesterday’s exit leading to the hotel.

‘Also, about the things I want to know, ‘ Bond says, the blond gesturing at him to go on.

‘I’d like to know, ‘ Bond says silkenly, ‘What does a person want if they flirt with someone for a few hours at a bar, only to leave quite… abruptly?’

The blond tenses.

‘That… depends, ‘ he says as they bypass more cars, James speeding up again. ‘On what’s the other person’s reactions are like.’ His voice is uncharacteristically soft.

‘Care to elaborate?’ Bond says, stealing a look at his passenger.

‘What if.. the other person was flirting as well?’ Silva looks back at him, their eyes meeting.

‘And is that a bad thing?’

‘Hmm, ‘ the blond says slowly, eyes dark. ‘Might be. In a particular line of work.’

‘So it’s the working together excuse then,’ Bond shakes his head, a cold grin splattered on his lips. ‘Combined with “you are a spy” excuse.’

‘Is it working?’ Silva asks, noticing that James turns and they are on the street leading to the hotel.

‘Is what working?’ James asks back coyly.

‘Nothing, ‘ Silva quickly replies.

‘Come on. I’ll trade the information then, ‘ James says, stopping at a busy intersection, in front of the traffic lights that are blazing with the aching red.

‘For? Lessons in Spanish?’

 ‘I asked you a question. You can ask me one.’ Bond says, eyes searching Silva’s. The blond looks back, eyes glimmering.

 ‘How long are you going to stay in Shanghai?’

‘However long it takes, ‘ Bond replies, holding his gaze.

The blond’s tongue darts out to lick on his damaged lower lip.

‘However long it takes… to what?’

Bond follows the movement with his eyes.

‘Well, mostly two things, ‘ he says slowly, as the light switches to green and he speeds up away from the traffic lights, turning right. ‘First of all, to finish the job,’ the car roars into the underground parking lot. Bond finds the nearest empty space.

‘And secondly…’ He pulls up, kills the engine and turns to the blond. ‘And secondly, to get you into my bed.’

He watches in satisfaction as that gorgeous mouth falls open, Silva’s eyes widening.

‘Why? ‘ Bond continues, eyes dark. ‘Thought your teasing would go unnoticed?’

A mischievous grin starts forming on the blond’s face, illuminating his features.

‘I was waiting for you to catch on, ‘ he says, a strip of pearly white teeth showing, ‘Took you a while.’

‘Fuck you, ‘ Bond says light-heartedly and Silva raises an eyebrow.

‘You’d like that, wouldn’t you, ‘ he whispers tauntingly.

‘You were the one to leave yesterday, ‘ Bond says, leaning closer. ‘Yes, I would, ‘ he adds, mirroring the whisper.

‘Am I the next target on your list?’ the blond snaps, ‘Two weeks, that means that I’m the… what. Fifteenth?’

‘Targets?’ Bond raises his eyebrows, ‘Targets don’t move. I’d say you are a bomb.‘

‘Your targets do, ‘ the blond says. ‘They move into your bed and then out.’

James has to look away briefly, making sure his eyes won’t betray the pain. The blond leans ever closer.

‘Don’t tell me I’m wrong because I’m not.’

‘They wouldn’t stay if I asked, ‘ Bond says slowly, making sure his voice doesn’t tremble.

‘Have you tried asking?’ the blond asks before putting one hand up, to stop James from replying. ‘Of course not, you are afraid.’ His eyes narrow. ‘The woman in the picture? Left you when you begged her to stay, didn’t she?’

Bond looks straight at him, anger flashing in his light blue eyes and Silva drops his hand.

‘You’d rather fight about this?’ Bond finally retorts, ‘Maybe I feel you are different.’ He watches in perverse satisfaction as the blond’s eyes flutter down at the gunpowder-charged words. ‘Maybe I feel like for some reason, not sure why exactly, I feel like you wouldn’t just fuck me to get some information. Or to get a nice story.’

‘Believing is the worst, ‘ Silva mumbles, pain shooting through his eyes as he lifts them up at Bond.

 ‘You know what?’ Bond snaps, his voice harsh. ‘How about you answer me one question too.’

‘Alright, ‘ Silva grits his teeth, giving him a quick nod.

‘Do you want me?’ Bond spats, eyes wide. ‘And don’t lie, ‘ He grabs the blond’s wrist, index finger brushing over his pulse point. ‘Because I’ll know.’

And Silva jerks his hand away, grabbing at Bond’s coat and pulling him close.

‘Yes, ‘ he whispers, lips close to James’ ear.

Bond’s hands grip him, pressing them tighter, closer. Bond’s lips brush against the blonde hair and Silva breathes out audibly.

‘Then give it a chance, will you, ‘ Bond whispers into the strands.

‘Are you going to ask me to stay?’ the blond mutters. ‘Am I different?’

And Bond leans back, looking into his eyes.

‘Stay.’

One word, a million thoughts exploding at once between them, unspoken and scary but Silva’s knees feel weak from that breathy voice laced with British accent and as he meets his gaze, he knows.

‘I’m here, ‘ he whispers, leaning forward, lips almost touching James’.

‘Stay for the night, ‘ Bond says and Silva shivers.

James leans in for a kiss, the miniscule distance between them closing and he licks at Silva’s lower lip, tongues meeting; Silva moans, leaning even closer and they kiss deeply, as his fingers slide up to cup James’ face. It’s beautiful and wrong and beautiful again and then James bites lightly on his lower lip, so sensitive because of the damaged skin and Silva gasps, letting James lick it gently.

They break apart when they’re both seeing sparks, James leaning down, planting kisses all over Silva’s throat and Silva breathing heavily.

He shivers, the lips sliding down his throat making his head spin.

‘You cold?’ Bond looks up. ‘Maybe we should go inside.’

‘Yeah, ‘ Silva’s voice barely above a whisper. ‘I’m freezing.’

James breathes hotly onto the licked skin and the blond moans at the sensation.

‘I want to warm you up, ‘ he promises, capturing the blond’s lips in a light teasing kiss.

‘That… would be nice, ‘ Silva says, eyes shining.

‘You want to get a drink? ‘ Bond asks, kissing the corner of his lips. ‘You can choose.’

Silva strokes his jaw with one finger; the touch agonisingly soft.

‘We can go upstairs, ‘ James explains, kissing Silva’s cheek. ‘The view is still gorgeous.’

‘I’ll have to see that, won’t I, ‘ Silva replies, eyes bright.

‘You can try out my jacuzzi, ‘ Bond grins. ‘Or we can get a drink and get you home.’

‘I think… I want to see the view, ‘ the blond says mischievously.

‘I think I can arrange that, ‘ Bond grins devilishly.

Silva looks at him, eyes narrowing but still glinting with laughter.

‘You need to be inflamed, don’t you, ‘ he says. ‘This is your element.’

Bond’s eyes flash and he grabs the blond’s hair, planting a deep kiss on his lips. Silva breathes out, deepening the kiss, hands flying to Bond’s neck, short nails digging into the skin above the collar of his shirt.

 ‘You’re perfect, ‘ Bond breaks the kiss for a moment, leaning closer to Silva’s ear. ‘Do you even know that.’

He claims another kiss and then Silva breaks away gently, dropping his head against Bond’s shoulder.

‘No one ever said that, ‘ his voice bitter.

‘Well I’m saying it, ‘ Bond says, his eyes serious. ‘And no one else’s opinion matters.’

The blond sighs against his shoulder.

‘Thank you.’

‘Siempre te esperamos, ‘ James says, the vowels amplified by his British accent.

Silva laughs softly.

‘Mmm, terrible,’ he leans back to look into James’ eyes.

‘I’m trying, ‘ Bond laughs back.

‘I know, ‘ Silva says, taking Bond’s chin between his fingers, slowly kissing him.

They kiss like this; time falling away. Seconds, minutes. The world around then seemingly put on pause before Silva leans back.

‘I’m fucking freezing, ‘ he whispers. ‘Let’s go to your suite.’

‘Mmm the view is to kill for, ‘ Bond laughs, opening his door.

‘I might just have to, ‘ Silva echoes, smiling.

They get out of the car and James adds:

‘No, you’ll have to do something else though.’

The blond looks back innocently. Bond grins, walking towards the building, Silva follows him, admiringly looking  at Bond’s confident walk and his perfect back.

‘What a sight, ‘ he mutters to himself.

‘Sorry?’ Bond turns around, grabbing his arm. ‘Come on, you’ll catch cold.’

The blond lets him drag him towards the hotel, grinning.

‘You better be quick then, ‘ he teases. ‘To warm me up.’

 

**Part 2**

They start in the elevator, unable to keep their hands off each other. The walls are plexiglass and it takes a while before they get to the 50th floor.

‘How long before we’re up?’ Silva asks and his eyes are darker than ever.

And the view _is_ to kill for, as they rise higher and higher, flashes of desire in their eyes; James presses the blond against one glass wall; a kiss is breathless, urgent, merciless. Their hands slide all over, gliding under their coats, tugging at the lapels. Silva laughs into James’ lips when his hand accidently brushes over James’ gun, and James licks over his kiss-swollen lips in response, refusing to break away.

Has it been so long that he’s forgotten how this is done, because the blond moans and writhes under the touches and the bites, unravelling like a schoolgirl. All the previous violence apparently left him begging for this, dreaming of this and James gives him all of it, enjoying the gasps and the “oh”s he elicits from Silva.

‘Fuck you’re hot, ‘ James informs him breathlessly and then the elevator doors slide open with a beep.

It’s a suite, black and white colour palette, huge and flashy; Bond is definitely Mommy’s new favourite. The whole wall overlooking the city is essentially one huge window; and Silva gets the view he missed in the elevator.

Bond is smooth, even when obviously aroused; there are tell-tale signs of nervousness he cannot hide from a former agent – he blinks a little too often, fingers curling and then relaxing, but he is still oozing confidence; a kind of an assassin Prince Charming.

Silva starts coughing violently and James’ hand brushes over his back.

‘Tshh, ‘ he whispers. ‘Maybe some water?’

It takes him one look from Silva’s watering eyes and in a moment he is back with a glass of water.

And he watches Silva drink it eagerly, a few drops falling from his lips when he finishes, what an ironic innuendo; James smirks and takes off his own coat, revealing the suit underneath.

Silva looks outside the giant window and Bond stands next to him.

‘Wow, ‘ the blond says. The city is buzzing; tiny lights flickering at every second, the myriad of colours; cars seem so impossibly small at this height.

And then Bond stands in the centre of the wall, arms stretched out, an invitation; a perfect man in a perfect suit against the perfect view. He is almost like a present waiting to be unwrapped, Silva thinks. And tonight, I get to do it.

Does he do this every time? To every person he brings up here? And to numerous other suites he has been staying at, enjoying other views in other parts of the world?

‘Enjoy it while you can, ‘ Bond grins.

 ‘Is that supposed to be a threat?’ Silva steps closer and Bond pushes himself off the glass, reaching for the blond’s coat, tugging it off.

‘Oh yes, ‘ Bond promises darkly.

And then he leans in, kissing him and the world again is suddenly small; like it feels after the pills, but better. It is sweeter and these hands caressing his shoulders and arms, teasingly tugging at his clothes and he leans into the kiss, trying to deepen it. Suddenly, it no longer matters if he does this to everyone, because no one else is in this dimension right now; it’s just _them_.

And this man, this blue-eyed boy, so lost, so violent, so _angry_ – he wants _him_. He wants _Tiago_ , the ruined broken toy that MI6 and dear Mommy threw out like garbage and the Chinese would actually throw out like garbage if he wasn’t saved by the raid.

He wants Silva, his erection pressing into his thigh, hands gripping at Silva’s clothes and Silva’s hair and they bruise each other’s lips but it is okay because Silva wants him just as bad.

Bond presses him flush against the glass and the world beneath them is shimmering with Shanghai lights and Silva yelps. Bond breaks the kiss, licking under his ear.

‘Are you sure this isn’t going to break?’ Silva asks, as he watches tiny movements of cars and crowds beneath.

‘Mmm, ‘ Bond grins, moving back to see his face. ‘We’ll just have to wait and see.’

And he watches Silva’s eyes go wide and the dark blue is turning indigo.

‘How do you say, ‘ Bond whispers hotly into his ear, licking it between words, ‘How do you say “I want you” in Spanish?’

Silva growls at the sensation and it takes some time before he can actively follow a train of thought.

‘Te quiero, ‘ he whispers and Bond leans lower and bites his neck

‘Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero, ‘ Bond whispers between harsh bites and each word is like a flame, every bite an explosion on Silva’s skin.

He gasps, letting his head fall back against the glass and he feels Bond’s hands slipping under his shirt.

He grabs the hands, head leaning forward again, eyes fearful.

‘Did I do something?’ Bond asks, eyes searching his.

And Silva shakes his head; he cannot say it, not now, not out loud, not to him.

‘So mysterious, ‘ Bond chuckles, kissing him lightly.

‘It’s not that, ‘ Silva moans a little, the kiss not nearly long enough but making him breathless. ‘It’s just… Look.’

He pushes Bond slightly away and pulls his shirt open, revealing the scars. He tries not to look down himself but even after a brief look he notices how they shine in the faint light.  

‘Is that all? ‘ Bond asks, genuinely surprised. ‘Want to see mine?’

And Bond takes off his black jacket, throwing it across the room and rips his own shirt open, not bothering with buttons. There are burn scars on his abdomen but mostly Silva’s eyes focus on the gorgeous ridge of muscles.

‘I didn’t acquire mine in fight, ‘ he protests weakly.

‘You see these?’ Bond asks, tracing the deepest burns on his skin. ‘Two years ago, a drug-trafficking gang in Chile. Got caught, they burned me with rods. Oh and these?’ He touches the right side of his chest. ‘These are scorpion bites.’

Silva watches him intently, fingers flying to his own left cheek, brushing against the jaw. Bond throws the shirt across the room and moves closer.

James’ voice is soft when he speaks again.

‘Your jaw is a quarter of an inch bigger on the right side of your face when you open your mouth wider.’

Silva stares at him, mouth dry.

‘You think I didn’t notice?’

And Bond kisses him, first his right cheek, soft careful kisses and teasing licks.

‘I—,‘ Silva tries to form a sentence but he’s out of breath.

‘Shut up, ‘ Bond say, kissing his lips.

The fire starts burning through his skin again and they part, both seeing stars.

‘Mmm, bien, ‘ Silva murmurs, submitting.

‘I want you… so bad, ‘ James growls and Silva pulls him closer, enjoying the feel of James’ naked flesh under his hands.

‘Te quiero, ‘ Silva whispers hotly, leaning close to James’ ear.

And Bond says, ‘Mmm yes. _Want me_.’

And it sounds like a demand or an order and he presses the blond against the glass again, hands working on his belt. The buckle undone, he grabs it and pulls it out of Silva’s dark jeans, watching the blond’s eyes narrow.

‘Hands. Above. Your. Head, ‘ Bond rasps and his eyes are liquid fire.

Silva shrugs his shirt off and slowly brings his hands up. Bond grabs them, securing the belt around the thin wrists; his movements are swift but Silva can tell – he is making sure the restraints won’t hurt too much.

‘Mm, _tan feroz_ , Mr Bond, ‘ he says, moving closer, trying to steal a kiss.

‘I have no idea what it means, ‘ James grins and kisses him, hard and wet.

‘So fierce, ‘ Silva translates as they break apart for air.

James undoes Silva’s jeans, kneeling briefly to tug them down and off; the blond falls back against the glass, gasping.

‘No underwear?’ James chuckles. ‘In this winter?’

And he licks his lips before slowly rising back up, licking a pathway up Silva’s chest as those ocean-deep eyes watch him closely.

Silva swallows audibly and moans, those deliciously rich moans that make James want to tear him apart and make him his.

And then it’s too much, the trail of hot kisses that Bond leaves on his chest and neck burn like wild fire and Silva moves his fingers around under the belt, trying to get the restraints off, tugging.

‘Oh no, ‘ James says and kisses him hard, bruising his lips. ‘I’m going to fuck you like this.’

Silva’s eyes widen.

‘And if we fall, ‘ James continues, ‘We will probably die.’

He grins, mischief and madness glinting in his eyes and Silva starts laughing.

‘Not afraid, ‘ Silva declares.

‘Death would be your lucky escape, ‘ Bond promises darkly, licking the bites on his neck. Silva groans, jerking his hips forward and James’ hand starts moving downwards, unbearably slowly, his lips pressing soft kisses and as he looks up his eyes are completely manic.

‘Tell me what you want. ‘

 And his grin is pure evil.

‘You’re going to-fuuuck,’ Silva growls as James licks lower, nipping at Silva’s abdomen. ‘Let me choose?’

‘Time’s running out, Mr Silva, ‘ Bond says, biting the soft pale skin and blowing hot air on it.

‘Quiero…  Quiero que me jodas, ‘ the blond half-moans, throwing his head back.

‘Mm if only I knew, ‘ Bond’s hand touching him teasingly, touches butterfly-light and not nearly enough.

‘Fuck me, ‘ Silva gasps, thrusting his hips forward. ‘I want you to _fuck_ me.’

And then it’s almost like he just won and lost at the same time, because the touches disappear and James stands up again, pulling him into a searing kiss, demanding, bruising and breathless and Silva meets it, melts into it and lets himself to be completely and utterly lost.

It feels like falling; no thoughts in your head, just like in his most peaceful dreams. Nothing remains; just James and the way his lips are making him feel.

And then James moves away once more and coming back to reality is like hitting the ground and he doesn’t want to.

‘Turn around, ‘ James whispers gently.

Silva’s pupils widening, he does as asked, slowly, still seeing blasts and stars from the deep kiss.

Bond’s left hand grips his hair, pulling lightly.

‘Bloody hell, I was dreaming of this, ‘ he rasps.

And of course, he is _so_ dominant, just like Silva knew he would be; he leaves red marks on his skin, he grips him, he pushes and he whispers "spread your legs" into Silva’s ear in that demanding tone before biting his neck and Silva groans and obliges because it all makes his head spin.

He is dominant, but also gentle and slow; he whispers soothing ‘tshh’s into Silva’s neck when the fingers feel like too much and Silva arches back, groaning loudly. James bites at his ear, his fingers stretching and hitting the right spot somewhere deep inside and Silva yelps and swears in Spanish, squirming against the glass, nails scratching against the glass. James groans against his hair, the sight of the blond coming undone just from his fingers making him want more.

‘You… ‘ he whispers. ‘This…will… hurt.’

And he enters him slowly, one hand on Silva’s left shoulder, another on his hip.

It’s not pain, it’s not pleasure; it’s bursting flame behind his eyelids, destroying everything, burning, the agony of feeling everything at once and falling, falling and _falling_ and for a second the blond’s mind gives him a vision of actually going out that window and the cold air enveloping their bodies before they smash against the ground.

He is feeling everything; he must have really died that day because this feels like nothing ever felt before. He screams out when James slides deeper and then holds still.

‘Don’t… stop, ‘ he manages to gasp.

‘You sure?’ James groans, his voice laced with pleasure.

How can he not be sure when liquid fire is eating at his nerve endings?

He thrusts his hips backwards, trying to get more of that sensation of being filled and it works because James groans and fucks him deeper, sliding to the hilt and then back, both hands gripping Silva’s hips, controlling the movements.

It’s too much and not enough, all lines blurred, all protective barriers destroyed and Silva gives in, groaning and muttering pleas and gasping.

‘Más rápido…’ he whimpers. ‘Más fuerte…’

And James bites the back of his neck, over and over, he is so possessive and angry and he must look beautiful like this.

‘I hope that means faster,’ James says, the force of thrusts increasing, fucking into him with abandon.

Silva throws his head back.

‘Yes!’ he screams as he feels James sliding in over and over, his fingers digging into Silva’s hips, bruising the skin and short nails leaving scratches.

He meets James’ thrusts as much as he can, caught between the glass and James’ controlling grip and James moans brokenly.

‘Oh god you’re perfect.’

It’s a race; two hearts on the verge of exploding, bodies melting into one another; they can seemingly read each other’s minds, completely synchronised. James bites harshly on Silva’s shoulder and Silva simultaneously throws his head forward, screaming out James’ name and muttering Spanish courses and all he can think of is he never wants this to end.

‘Mmm, yes, ‘ James growls and Silva suddenly thinks he can feel the manic stare of those blue eyes even without being able to look.

 ‘Más, más, por favor, ‘ Silva pleads and James’ thrusts quicken as he grunts and growls, hips snapping.

‘More, more, more, ‘ Silva keeps asking, meeting his every thrust, his arms numb and a wall of fire shooting from his lower back up his spine.

‘Like this?’ Bond asks, grabbing his hips and going in deeper, slightly changing the angle.

And he hits that spot, over and over, relentlessly and it’s so hard not to scream every time when the world is exploding with bursts of light; Bond grins into Silva’s neck, thrusting at the same angle and the heat is so gloriously tight, that body so pliable he knows they both won’t last.

‘Let me.. Let me..’ Silva keeps repeating breathlessly, that sweet pleading tone colouring his words and it makes James’ skin burn.

‘Yes, ‘ James moans.

And they both come, seconds apart, groans filling up the room; it feels like free-fall for the blond, the abyss welcoming him with open arms as he plunges into it, screaming, body shuddering, every nerve ending lit up like Shanghai street lights. 

He is shaking as Bond presses against him and he cannot stop a wail from coming out of his mouth when James slides out carefully; it hurts but most of all it’s a strange feeling of emptiness. He has felt it before, of course, so many times, but for some reason the past seems a lifetime away.

James undoes the belt securing Silva’s wrists and presses kisses to his hands. He grabs him when he almost trips on their way to the bed and walks him towards it.

 

It feels somehow strange, unfitting, to lie in James’ bed, face buried against his chest, feeling James’ hands holding him carefully and his lips pressing kisses to the blonde hair. It feels strange to look up at him with clouded eyes; strange to feel this relaxed.

‘So…? ‘ Bond starts and Silva knows it will be something big because James’ eyes are glinting.

‘Mm?’ he hums, unable to form words.

‘Enjoyed the view?’ Bond asks, a devilish grin tugging at his lips.

‘Hmm,’ Silva rolls his eyes. ‘I didn’t see much.’ He adds mischievously.

‘Me neither, ‘ Bond whispers.

‘Thought so, ‘ the blond grins lazily.

‘You’re so mysterious, ‘ Bond looks at him, affection shining through the light blue.

‘How’s that?’ Silva asks.

‘When you sat in my car for the first time, ‘ Bond says meaningfully, ‘So cold… so beautiful.’

‘That feels like a year ago, ‘ Silva mumbles and James laughs.

‘Oops, ‘ he whispers, grinning.

‘Arrogant little bitch, ‘ Silva whispers back hotly and watches as James’ eyes go wide.

‘Oh really?’ Bond mocks, eyes dark.

‘Mm-hmm, ‘ Silva confirms. ‘Really.’ And he moves closer to bite James’ shoulder.

‘Nice to know, Prince of---Mmmmm—Ice Cold Prince. And when was I arrogant?’

Silva’s biting turns into licking and James groans as the sensations shoot straight to his groin.

‘No, I’m not going to give you the folder, we talk first, I’m finishing your cigarette, ‘ Silva mimics a British accent.

‘Oh is that supposed to be me?’ James laughs; the blond raises an eyebrow.

‘You were so bloody cold, ‘ James observes further. ‘And distant. Such a stranger.’

‘Yeah, I tend to do that, ‘ Silva says carefully.

‘God I’ve wanted you from the moment I’ve first seen you, ‘ Bond confesses.

Silva tilts his head to the side, exposing his neck and Bond leans in, leaving sharp bites right over the places he has left them earlier, the red marks deepening.

‘Mmm did you now-ahhh, ‘ Silva lifts up James’ chin and kisses him forcefully.

‘I still have no idea who you are, ‘ James grins into the kiss. ‘Such an enigma.’

Silva starts saying something, suddenly coughing and pressing his face into the mattress.

‘Tshh, ‘ Bond soothes, hands creating smooth strokes down Silva’s back. ‘I was only joking.’

‘Fuck you,’ Silva whispers through the coughs.

‘Okay then, ‘ James eyes widen, voice significantly colder. ‘Going to be mean again?’

‘Didn’t you like me like that?’ Silva snaps. ‘An…mm.. Ice Cold Prince?’

He manages to look up, lashes wet.

James’ eyes look broken.

He turns away.

‘Hey, ‘ Silva says slowly, fingers lightly touching James’ shoulder blades. They feel sharp, almost like wings.

An angel.

Bond turns back, his voice lifeless.

‘It’s fine if you just got what you wanted.’

‘I’m sorry, ‘ Silva says and all tingles of fire now gone and all he feels is horrible and painful cold.

‘But I don’t think you’re cold at all, ‘ James says and their eyes meet.

The blond looks down.

‘You don’t know me at all, you just said so, ‘ he vaguely protests, knowing Bond can see right through him.

And James leans closer, fingers playing against Silva’s skin again; it feels incredible, even the lightest touch making him want more and he berates himself internally for starting this ridiculous conversation.

‘I won’t if I never get the chance, ‘ James says, eyes serious.

They kiss; it feels like ice melting under fire. Their words charged with venom dissolving and melting, the undeniable heat between them igniting again; it start as slow and careful, almost apologetic, but soon they both lose the remnants of control, lips bruising lips, a battle of tongues and James breaks away with a sigh where there’s no air in his lungs left.

They look at each other the way a snake looks at a charmer.

 Silva sits up slightly, rubbing his eyes.

 ‘I’m sorry, ‘ James whispers.

It’s the absolute wrong move to take, apparently. The relaxed depths of dark blue blaze at him; the snake is now prepared to bite.

‘Don’t, ‘ Silva says, his voice stern. ‘Don’t do that.’

‘And why not?’ James asks, his eyes stubborn.

‘Don’t make yourself feel guilty when you are not, ‘ the blond looks at him and James looks away, unable to stare into Silva’s darkness.

‘I’m not… ‘ he says and then feels his voice waver. He clears his throat. ‘Not good with rejection.’

‘I’m not—‘ Silva says.

‘I don’t know if it’s me or—‘

‘You don’t understand, ‘ Silva raises his voice. ‘It’s not you!’

There’s a pause between them, the lights of the city the only source of light, their breaths the only sound. It feels the way dreams feel, but James almost never dreams.

‘But whenever I look at you, ‘ the blond continues, ‘I see myself. What I used to be. My old life.’

‘Do you want it back?’ James asks before he is even sure he wants to hear the answer.

Long thin fingers tug at sheets and Silva turns fully to him, eyes blazing with fire.

‘What I want, ‘ he says slowly, ‘Is revenge.’

‘On whom?’ James asks.

‘The one who made me have these scars. And this face, ‘ his right hand flying to his face, touching the left side.

‘Those who caught you?’

‘No, no, no, ‘ the blond starts laughing.

‘You don’t have to say, ‘ Bond tries to keep his voice calm.

Silva looks at him suddenly, laughter disappearing.

‘What was it you said to me once, ‘ he whispers. ‘Her carpet is red and has 5 dark patches on it.’

It was something James said when Silva was questioning whether he really worked at MI6.

MI6.

‘M?’ James asks reflexively. ‘But… ‘ He looks at him, his eyes searching the blond’s. ‘You think she was the one? It could not have been someone else?’

She traded me for six agents, ‘ Silva says, voice unemotional. ‘And left me lying to rot in a Chinese military prison for five months.’

‘How do you know all this? Bond asks, his face so struck by shock that Silva almost wants to laugh.

‘Remember who I am?’ he raises a hand, moving his fingers mockingly. ‘I hacked her files.’

‘We did trade a few agents, ‘ Bond remembers, his face pale but concentrated. And then his blue-blue eyes go wider than ever.

‘Oh god, the prison. What was the prison called?’

‘Victoria Prison, Hong Kong.’

And the way blond says it, voice so cold, so detached makes James’ head hurt.

‘It was you, ‘ James whispers and there is no point in fighting it; he’s shaking.

‘Tus ojos… I remembered, ‘ Silva’s voice finally breaks.

James grips his hands together, knuckles white.

‘The hair… I didn’t even--, ‘ he tries to understand. ‘You took the cyanide, didn’t you.’

Silva drops his face into his hands.

_Breakthrough._

‘The guards said you were dead, ‘ Bond says, moving closer to him. ‘Right before I shot them.’

‘I am supposed to be dead, ‘ comes a muffled reply.

‘But I knew you weren’t, ‘ Bond continues, his turn to sound calm and detached. ‘You were breathing. So I got you out, ‘ he touches Silva’s exposed neck lightly, the hickeys blatantly red on the otherwise porcelain skin.

Silva startles at the touch.

‘Remember, I was shooting at them and they were running after us?’ Bond asks and that does it.

Silva jerks away, standing up and looking around for his clothes.

‘If you want to go-- ‘ Bond starts speaking, unsure of what exactly to say.

‘I don’t _want_ to, ‘ the blond’s voice is hoarse as he responds; he finds his jeans and tries to put them on, standing on one leg.

‘Then don’t, ‘ Bond says quietly.

‘Don’t you understand?’ Silva finally manages to get the tight jeans on and turns to look at Bond like he is insane.

‘I won’t tell anyone, ‘ Bond spats. ‘If that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘But I’m planning to kill, ‘ he starts yelling, ‘the woman you would give your life for to protect.’

‘I give my life every day, ‘ Bond’s voice a lethal whisper, ‘for England. She gives me orders. I love that woman; I have a lot of respect for her. But I don’t _live_ for her.’

Silva looks down and James feels ridiculously victorious.

‘I want to know the _truth_. I--’ He breathes in, trying to find the right words. ‘I never feel like I know anything.’

Silva looks up at him, his posture lost.

‘What do you want to know?’ he asks.

And James looks at him, hair illuminated by the city lights, deep scars and welts running down his chest and abdomen; he looks so fragile, so thin, bones sticking out of his pale skin. And used, James suddenly realizes; he looks used by _him_. For the first time in his life he feels a sharp pang of guilt after sex; not because it didn’t feel good – and he knows the blond liked it too – but because it was taking advantage.

And James asks him to stay. For the second time this evening, swallowing his pride like a bitter pill.

But it doesn’t matter anymore when the blond lies down next to him and he’s trembling all over and he’s still wearing his dark jeans and nothing else and James pulls a blanket over him and they lie like this, he isn’t sure for how long, wordless and tired. At first they don’t touch but after Silva’s trembling doesn’t go away even under the duvet, James presses closer, winding arms around him carefully.

They both seem to doze out for a while; and when James opens his eyes again the blond has turned around and is looking at him, eyes focused but motionless.

It seems almost peaceful.

James stares back.

‘What do you want to know? ‘ Silva suddenly whispers and James realizes absent-mindedly that it’s the first time either of them spoke in hours. There’s so much agony in the dark blue pools, even when Silva is this calm.

James doesn’t know where to start.

‘Why the hell would she do it? You never betrayed us, have you? Then why? What is the bloody point?’

And Silva gives him a manic laugh in response, eyes still filled with pain.

‘Six agents that she traded clearly weren’t enough reason.’

‘I was hacking the Chinese beyond my bounds, ‘ the blond says, rolling onto his back and throwing his hands in the air mockingly. ‘That was her reason. And they were coming on to me. She thought--’

 He thinks he can go on but he can’t; he stops, shaking his head.

James swears.

‘Well I suppose I am not surprised, ‘ he says. ‘She gave me up once too.’

‘North Korea, ‘ Silva’s eyes narrow.

‘You read my file, ‘ Bond realises. ‘Yes, North Korea. 14 months.’

He watches as Silva’s mouth falls open.

‘Oh I know that probably wasn’t in the file. And then they said I betrayed their secrets.’

‘It said, for a period of time, ‘ Silva says slowly.

And James laughs.

’14 months is quite a period, right.’

‘Why—‘ Silva starts and James interrupts.

‘The man who betrayed me sent them the wrong information. Made sure they thought I cracked under torture. I _never_ broke down.’

James’ voice is cold; Silva searches for words, leaning closer, one hand touching James’ face.

‘They pretended like I wouldn’t remember because I was given serotonin-inhibitors, ‘ James says, eyes closing when he feels the touch. ‘I remember every _second_.’

‘I know. I know, ‘ the blond says, voice dragging. ‘Every second seems like a year.’

And James wants him to never leave and hates himself for that stupid thought.

‘Tell me one thing, ‘ Silva says, leaning back down on the bed. ‘I need to know. Why did you go back to her?’

His voice is stern, eyes searching James’.

‘Have you read the file?’ James asks, his face indifferent.

‘Yes, but—‘

‘Did you skip through the psych’s notes?’

‘Yes, ’ Silva admits.

‘I’m an orphan, ‘ James laughs, his eyes slightly manic. ‘I’m in constant need of a parental figure.’

‘But why her?’ Silva presses on.

‘Her? She’s not the parent. My country is. Without it, I have nothing.’

He stops; he has never said it out loud.

He looks down.

‘I am nothing.’

And then Silva is so unbearably close again and he places his hand on James’ chest, over where his heart is.

James lifts his eyes up.

‘You are _you_ , ‘ Silva says as they meet each other’s eyes.

‘And what is that worth?’

‘If there is one good thing, ‘ Silva shakes his head, ‘that I’ve gotten out of this is that you decide your life’s worth yourself. You can decide what to live for. Doesn’t have to be her. Or your country.’

‘Well nobody else wants me, I’m afraid. ‘ James says, turning away. Their conversation seems to have run its course.

Silva winds arms around him, pulling him closer.

‘You’re starting to melt the Ice Cold Prince, ‘ he whispers into James’ hair.

‘Oh no, are we going to drown?’ James doesn’t want to smile but he does.

‘I don’t know, can you swim?’ Silva whispers, every word echoed with a warm breath against James’ skin.

‘Very well actually, ‘ Bond answers.

‘Mm, that’s not a problem then,’ Silva says, as if they’re talking about cars or taking a stroll in the park.

‘But…’ James wants to say something but Silva is already tugging at the short strands of his hair, his lips dangerously close to a kiss. ‘But you were going to leave too.’

‘Did they teach you rescue swimming? In training, at the navy?’ Silva suddenly asks, his eyes glinting with mischief.

‘Of course they did, ‘ James says. ‘What does that—‘

‘Think you can rescue me?’ The blond grins, pressing tighter against James.

 ‘That would require my presence though, ‘ James retorts in tone.

‘You’re here, aren’t you?’ Silva taunts, fingers drumming against James’ shoulder.

‘All the time, ‘ James explains, ‘If someone can’t swim they’re always in danger.’

And they grin at each other like little kids.

‘Think you can handle that?’ James teases.

‘You better swim fast then,’ Silva warns, looking straight into him, biting his own lower lip.

‘Mmm, ‘ James murmurs, their faces incredibly close. ‘I hate metaphors.’

And his laugh is easily cut off, as the blond tugs him into a deep kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> The Ice Bar actually exists in London and is it gorgeous [http://amazingpr.co.uk/blog/?p=6126]  
> So does Mandarin Oriental [http://www.mandarinoriental.com/shanghai/ ]  
> "You need to be inflamed, don't you. This is your element" is a quote from "Cosmopolis" by Don DeLillo.


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